


a great big expression of happiness

by grapehyasynth



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, David Rose is a Good Person, M/M, POV David Rose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:01:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27806491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapehyasynth/pseuds/grapehyasynth
Summary: A little open mic night redux. Patrick doesn't plan on performing until David, against every better instinct, convinces him to.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 30
Kudos: 139





	a great big expression of happiness

**Author's Note:**

> Title from The Makings of You by Curtis Mayfield.  
> Another lil fic that happened on the way to editing my WIP

“I am _so_ excited for your open mic event,” Twyla gushes as she pays for two lip balms, despite having bought one yesterday. David suspects she’d dashed over here on her break just to talk with them. “I’m trying to figure out what to perform. There are just so many _options_! What are you planning to play, Patrick?” 

David walks straight into one of the side displays as his head whips around. Patrick participating in the open mic had _not_ come up during their earlier discussion.

“Oh, I’m not performing,” Patrick chuckles as he rings her up. 

“Oh,” Twyla says, sounding genuinely put out. “I thought you were hosting?” 

“I am.” 

“And I thought it was traditional for the host to play? At least one song,” she nudges, flashing a grin at David over her shoulder, as if he would be in agreement with her on this. 

“That is the tradition, but I think I’ll sit this one out.” Patrick smiles and hands her her change. “I’m sure I’ll have my hands full with hosting duties.” 

Twyla waves goodbye to both of them, and David lets the silence hang in her wake, lets the gentle clinging echoes of the bell over the door recede before he wanders over to Patrick. 

“So what’s _that_ about?” he asks. 

Patrick glances up from the ledger. “What?” 

“Um, you’re hosting and you’re not even _tempted_ to humiliate me with a performance? That’s highly out of character for you.” 

If David hadn’t already been suspicious, Patrick’s half-hearted answering smile does the trick. “It’s not a big deal, David.” 

“Oh, so that guitar you keep in the corner of your bedroom is just a decoration, then?” 

He doesn’t miss the way Patrick’s fingers tense around his pen. “I...have been known to play, and to sing,” Patrick admits slowly. “But it’s not - there will be so many other performers, I don’t need to get involved.” 

“Patrick,” David says, and he feels like he’s having an out-of-body experience; he wants to wring the neck of the alternate David that’s taken control of his voice right now. “You’re the poster boy for _involved_ . You put helicopter parents to _shame_.” 

Patrick sighs and drops his chin to his chest, rolling his head reluctantly for a moment before he glances up at David. “It’s just not a good idea. Speaking from personal experience.” 

David’s eyebrows shoot up. They’ve largely avoided talking about their romantic histories, but this sounds _juicy._ “Oh?” he queries, aiming for casual. 

“Yeah, I’ve - I’ve played for a few people I was dating, or wanted to be dating, and it just - it never landed quite the way I wanted.” 

“Because you were bad?” David ventures. 

Patrick laughs. “Well, no one ever put it like that. I don’t know, honestly. They always said they liked it, but - I don’t know. I wouldn't want to put either of us through that.” 

David simply cannot fathom this. Oh, he can absolutely fathom people being shitty or, at best, neglectful, inadequate in their appreciation. But he can’t fathom that kind of person ever having anything to do with Patrick, or their opinions mattering to Patrick, who’s so steady and sure and brave. 

Then again, David’s seen the way important things can trip Patrick up, turning him shy and hesitant. He’d been that way about asking David on a date; he’d been that way about their first kiss. 

“Okay, but, I don’t want you to not do something you want to do just because you’re expecting me to, like, have a bad reaction. I could leave while you perform, if that’s easier. If that would be lower pressure. I know my face can sometimes be a little...loud, so I could just - sneak out the back until you’re done.” 

Patrick laughs. “I don’t want that, David. If I were to perform, I’d be singing to you, so. It would be kind of important for you to be there.” 

“What if,” David says, despite the way it feels like his throat is closing up, anaphylactic shock brought on by doing something unbearably stupid, “what if I specifically _ask you_ to perform?” 

The way Patrick’s mouth drops open a little is frankly insulting. “I - David. Are you sure?” 

“Ye-es,” David forces out. 

“Really?” Patrick tilts his head, and David likes this so much better than when Patrick mopes and hides; David would flay himself open to get Patrick to look at him like that forever. “Because it kind of sounds like someone’s ordered you to wear Roland’s dirty boxers, or something.” 

He’s not only right, but he’s also created such a disgusting and correct analogy that it makes David like him even more. “I’m sure,” he lies. “You should perform.” 

Patrick hesitates only a moment more, and David really can’t believe he has this power, to actually make steady, sure, brave Patrick do something he’d stepped back from. “Alright, well, if you’re sure. I’ll, uh, I’ll go see if I still have my fringed vest.” 

“Oh!” David is so grateful he’s never gotten Botox; he needs full control to be able to not make his face react the way it wants to react. “Can’t wait. 

  
  
  
  


“Wait. _You_ pushed _him_ to perform?” Stevie demands when they have dinner at the cafe later that night.

“Listen, I don’t get it either,” David sighs. “I think I might have entered a fugue state or something.” 

“Or maybe - and I know this is going to sound insane,” Stevie says, putting out a hand to forestall his presumed protestations. “But maybe you really, you know, like this guy? And are willing to do difficult things, or things you don’t particularly like, just to make him happy?” 

“Mm, sounds unlikely. Maybe I _don’t_ like him and this is my way of sabotaging things.” 

“Oh, so you think he’s going to be bad, then?” Stevie asks innocently, eating four french fries in one bite. 

David groans and tips his head forward onto the table, carefully avoiding his plate. “No. I don’t know. I think - I think maybe I’ll like it? Even if it’s bad? Just because it’s him.” 

“Holy shit,” Stevie whispers. 

“I _know_ ,” he hisses at her. _Finally_ , she’s starting to grasp the depth of his problem. Well, since they’re already in deep- “You know what’s worse? Even if it _is_ bad, I think I’d still want to date him. Like, that wouldn’t be a deal-breaker.” 

Stevie just shakes her head. “You are a disgusting, heart-eyed marshmallow of a person, David Rose.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Last chance,” Patrick says bracingly, coming up to David’s side and rubbing his arm. He’d thankfully chosen to forgo the fringed vest, if such abomination does indeed exist. “I could say my throat is sore and I can’t perform. It’s still your call.” 

“No, you should do it!” David presses out with as much cheerfulness as he can muster. “I am - so excited.” 

“Aw, I’m touched.” 

“No, it’s more that I’m looking forward to hearing George’s culinary haikus? And the sooner you’re done with your bit, we can get on to that, so.” 

“So sweet. Don't quiet your face on my account,” Patrick chuckles, and then he sneaks a kiss and darts up to the stage. 

David watches him greet the crowd with the lips he’d just used to kiss David, tuning his guitar with the hand he’d just used to touch David’s shoulder, glowing as if he’d captured the fire from David’s sweater inside him, and David thinks, _Fuck, I might really love this man_. 


End file.
